


Tumblr Prompts - Shadows and Light

by not_poignant



Series: Shadows and Light [4]
Category: Fae Tales - not_poignant, Guardians of Childhood - William Joyce, Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: AU and canon mix, Angst, Blanket Forts, Fluff, Grief, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Pitch feeling pretty happy about the idea of being worshipped, Pitch still hates that axe, References to past trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-29
Updated: 2015-11-29
Packaged: 2018-05-03 22:26:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5309333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/not_poignant/pseuds/not_poignant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Finally aggregating together all the prompts I've written over the years on my Tumblr account, since it just occurred to me there's a few people here who've never seen them, and it might be nice for some of you to be able to find them. :) These are the Shadows and Light prompts I've answered over the years (some canon, some not so much). </p>
<p>1) Jack/Gwyn - a kiss.<br/>2) Jack + Ash - post-SAL, a waterhorse slowly breaking down, and the frost spirit who witnesses it.<br/>3) Jack/Pitch - falling asleep in the other's lap.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cataglottism

**Author's Note:**

> This one is obviously not canon, heh. A random follow on from Pitch saying that Jack had a 'type.'

_I’ll take ‘things that are a complete accident’ for a hundred dollars thanks,_ Jack thought. 

It wasn’t like he’d _planned_ it. One moment Gwyn had been going on and on and _on_ about battle strategy, and the next, Jack decided to just see what would shut him up. It hadn’t helped that he’d been thinking about kissing the guy for some time. It definitely didn’t help that Pitch had made it painfully clear that not only was he not the jealous type, he was also the ‘I’d be curious to see how Gwyn responded to you’ type, which absolutely hadn’t given Jack any ideas.

None.

Certainly not any ideas that he was following through right now.

Because it was definitely a complete _accident_. 

_Uh huh_ , Jack thought. 

Gwyn was still standing straight in shock. Jack was floating off the ground – no way he’d match the guy’s height otherwise – and had his staff pressed to Gwyn’s back and was mostly just surprised that Gwyn’s lips were so soft, feeling his fast breathing against his face. 

At first, Jack had just sort of mushed his lips against Gwyn’s. But now that he was here, and actually doing it, he thought that would leave a kind of bad memory – he certainly didn’t want Gwyn to think he was a bad kisser. He’d learned an awful lot from Pitch after all. 

_Do the team proud!_

Jack opened his mouth just a little, could feel Gwyn’s gaze on him. The idiot didn’t even know how to close his eyes during a kiss. He risked his tongue slipping out and flicking at Gwyn’s bottom lip, once, again, then he made his mouth soft and pressed even closer, touching Gwyn’s neck at the same time, fingers curling. Ice slowly crept along flesh and Gwyn gasped and Jack totally prepared himself to be pushed away and admonished or lectured or _something_ \- 

Gwyn just stood there. 

A smart person would’ve asked the King if he was okay, or if they could keep going. Jack had never been a smart person. Certainly, he’d never particularly cared that everyone else seemed to treat Gwyn with deference. Jack got further treating him…well, treating him like this. 

Jack rubbed at the frost on Gwyn’s neck absently – he hadn’t actually meant to do that, he was just kind of nervous and excited. He pointed his tongue and licked at the seam of Gwyn’s lips. It was pushy, sure, but god – did it mean that he could gloat to others about it later? Not that he _would_ necessarily, but he could totally tell everyone he made out with the King. 

_That’s some street cred._

Jack kept his eyes closed, angled his mouth slightly, lightly scraped at the base of Gwyn’s neck and kept slowly licking. It wasn’t messy, exactly, there wasn’t saliva everywhere, but he was definitely making Gwyn’s mouth wet. 

‘Come on,’ Jack said, when he sensed a softening in Gwyn’s body. He’d honestly expected the guy to kiss like a battering ram. All take and muscle and sternness. ‘Open.’ 

Gwyn inhaled sharply, and Jack just kept carefully stroking at the back of Gwyn’s neck, where it was so warm that it reminded Jack of Pitch and well, _well_ , that wasn’t exactly _helping_. 

He really hated it when Pitch got to be right about things. Pitch was definitely right that Jack had a type. 

Gwyn’s mouth opened, just a little, enough that Jack could shift his tongue inside. Teasing strokes that encouraged Gwyn to open his mouth more. Soft touches that made the breath sigh out of him, made Gwyn lean closer. A hand came up and rested tentatively on Jack’s back, and Jack would’ve punched the air in triumph except he was pretty sure it would be a mood-killer. 

_No punching the air in triumph when kissing the very obnoxious King._

_…Not so obnoxious now though._

When Gwyn’s tongue came up and brushed against Jack’s, so faintly it could have been called delicate, Jack stopped feeling like he was winning a competition and felt some hungrier, darker thing inside of him flare to life. He pushed closer, grabbed a handful of Gwyn’s shirt, licked deeper into his mouth and thought of the way Pitch kissed and emulated it, and was rewarded a minute later by a lost, faint sound humming against Jack’s mouth.

That was when Gwyn pulled back, just enough to stare at Jack. He licked at his lips and Jack watched, finding himself wanting to bite. At the very least, it would be revenge for all the times Gwyn went into lecture-mode about something. 

‘So that was an awesome way to shut you up!’ Jack said, beaming at him. ‘I’m going to remember that for next time.’

‘Next time?’ Gwyn said, sounding so bewildered that Jack had no choice but to lean back in and kiss that away too.


	2. The Lost Waterhorse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ash + Jack tentative friendship. The prompt was: 'cuddling in a blanket fort.' 
> 
> This one could easily be canon, depending on how you want to look at it.

It didn’t start off as a friendship. 

Jack knew that Ash was trying to make up for things that he could never make up for, and he was pretty sure that Ash knew that too. 

At first Jack hadn’t trusted him at all. Had no reason to - was reminded of horrific times and sought out Pitch and together they’d used light and ice and made it clear they didn’t want anything to do with him. 

So Ash had sent a card. A Christmas card. It had simply said: 

_I’m sorry. For everything. I hope you have a good holiday season.  
_

And Jack had a good holiday season, despite the stupid card, and despite the stupid reminders of the past. Augus was in prison where he deserved to be, and Jack ignored how Ash had looked at him - mired in misery while his brother brought them all down. Ignored that they’d ever had anything like kinship. 

They had nothing in common. 

Ash deserved to be upset. 

*

A few months later, Jack had been flying through the streets of Prague, icing up cobblestones and feeling joyful and light and _free._ And he’d raced down an alley whooping and then his voice had strangled in his throat when he realised he’d just iced up a homeless person. 

He raced back, swearing under his breath. It had been ages since he’d made such a simple mistake. And he stared at the slumped figure and then his eyes widened. 

It was Ash, wearing a _crown…  
_

‘I…’ Jack stared at him. ‘Shit.’ 

His shirt and jacket was rumpled, covered in frost. He was missing a shoe. He had a _crown_ upon his head. And Jack could feel the magic in it. Hovered his hand over it and swore again. 

He took two steps sideways, hopped onto the winds, then stilled. 

He turned back again. Then he slid off the winds and let his feet touch the disgusting asphalt, and poked Ash’s shoulder with the end of his staff. 

‘Hey,’ Jack said, his voice rough. ‘Hey, come on. Get up.’ 

What if he was injured? 

_Then I won’t care!  
_

But…what if he was? 

_This isn’t your problem! Gwyn gave you a choice. You’re not a part of that world anymore. You don’t want to be!  
_

_‘_ Come on, man,’ Jack said, poking at him again. ‘Come on.’ 

‘Yeah,’ Ash rumbled, his voice gritty. ‘Whatever. I’m gone. I’m getting up.’ 

He pushed himself up and rubbed at his face, started laughing while still looking at the ground. The sound held no good will in it. And Jack thought about how Gwyn had said Ash was beloved, and joyful, and how his centre was probably something to do with being carefree. 

‘He’s not worth this, is he?’ Jack said, staring at him. ‘Why are you doing this to yourself?’ 

Ash turned his head and looked at Jack in amazement. The circles under his eyes were the colour of cigar ash. Jack realised that he reeked of alcohol. That it wasn’t the alley, it was _him.  
_

_‘_ You smell like a distillery,’ Jack said. 

‘I forget you live human-side,’ Ash said, leaning back against the dirty brick wall and tugging a packet of Gold Flake cigarettes out of his pocket. He tapped one out and then dug around in his jeans pocket for a lighter. When he lit the cigarette, he stared at the frost on his sleeve and quirked a smile at it. ‘Were you gonna freeze me to death? Won’t work now. I’m King, you see.’ 

‘King of what?’ Jack said. ‘Don’t tell me-’

‘Nah, it’s fine,’ Ash said, beaming at him. ‘Gulvi handles it. She doesn’t want me there. Because I’m kind of a mess, you know.’ 

‘He’s not worth it,’ Jack said, his voice dark. 

‘No offense,’ Ash said, not even looking at him, ‘but you got the worst of him. I’m not gonna tell you to change your mind. But you have no right to tell me to change mine. How about we leave it at that?’ 

‘You apologised for him,’ Jack said mutinously. 

‘Yeah, well, I can be fucking _sorry_ about it, can’t I? If I could undo it all, I would. But I can’t. Now, I’m hungover as hell, and unless you’re gonna do a whole Ghost of Christmas Past thing, how about you go do your thing elsewhere.’ 

Jack shook his head at him and went to do just that, and then found himself pausing and turning around, watching as Ash bent his knees towards his chest, slung an arm over his knees and kept morosely smoking his cigarette in long, hungry drags. 

‘I could’ve liked you,’ Jack said. 

‘Yeah?’ Ash said, eyes looking at him sidelong. ‘I _do_ like you.’ 

‘Can I…do anything?’ 

Ash’s eyes widened, and then filmed over quickly with tears. He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed a thumb and forefinger to them, breathing in noisily through his nose. 

‘Ah, kid,’ Ash said. ‘Go home to your man. You don’t need this.’ 

Jack decided he didn’t, and flew away.

But the nightmares he expected to dog him that night didn’t come. And when he talked to Pitch about it the next day, he realised that…he didn’t hate Ash quite like he thought he did. 

*

It was easy enough to track Ash on the winds. He lived almost entirely in the human world, though he went all over. Jack scented him in Prague and then New York, found him in Melbourne and then Glasgow. If Ash knew that Jack was following him, he gave no sign of it. He would go into a bar, come out stumbling drunk, and often slump in a park or alley or dark disgusting place nearby. Once, he was beaten by a human policeman and didn’t even defend himself, just apologised and headed off. 

Jack felt some veneer of ice around his heart melting. Thought about what he’d do if the Nightmare King assaulted someone like Augus had. Thought about what he’d do if everyone expected him to hate _Pitch._ Tried not to think about how adamant Ash was about how Augus had been tormented. Tried not to think about how even Pitch himself had admitted that whatever the Nightmare King had done to Augus, it had been an order of horror even he couldn’t conceive of. 

Tried not to think about it at all. 

But he couldn’t stop himself from following Ash, and he realised that something was changing inside of him. It didn’t bother him as much as he thought it would.

*

‘You can’t keep on like this,’ Jack said to him, as Ash stumbled out from behind a dumpster. 

Ash looked at him and shrugged. 

‘I mean it!’ Jack said. 

‘What do you want me to do, huh?’ 

‘I don’t…’ Jack rubbed at the back of his head. ‘I dunno.’ 

‘I can’t die from liver poisoning or pancreatitis,’ Ash said. ‘Can’t get emphysema. It’s fine. I’ll be fine.’

‘You don’t _want_ to be,’ Jack said. ‘You think I don’t know a downward spiral when I see one? I’ve been on a few, hey. They’re like the worst rollercoaster.’

Ash barked out some laughter, and then paused, cigarette halfway to his mouth. 

‘That’s true enough,’ Ash said. ‘But there’s miles to go before I reach the bottom of this, buddy. Sorry, I forgot…’ He made a face. ‘Jack.’

‘No it’s…it’s okay,’ Jack said. 

‘Pretty sure it isn’t.’ 

‘It’s fine,’ Jack said, more emphatically. 

‘You know,’ Ash said, leaning a shoulder against the wall. ‘When I was a kid, I used to steal all the blankets in our house. All of them. Because you know, my brother was kind of a hoarder of blankets and quilts and pillows and cushions and stuff.’

Jack wondered if Ash was avoiding his brother’s name for his own sake, or for Jack’s. 

‘And um, I’d drag everything into the lounge where the couches were, and I’d make this huge blanket fort. You know? Massive. It’d span like two couches and an armchair and the table where he ate. And then I’d drag all my books in there and some food and I’d stay there for days. I used to have these fucking awful nightmares. Well- Never stopped having them actually. Night terrors really, because- Anyway. Sometimes, the day after one of those, I’d just drag all the blankets out and make this like cocoon of fabric and it was awesome.’ 

Ash put away his cigarette without lighting it, stared off into the distance.

‘It’s just occurred to me, I guess, that it’s gone now. My home. The blankets. Can’t deal with this by hiding in a blanket fort. Gotta deal with it like an adult. But I can’t really do that either. So…I’m on the world’s worst fucking rollercoaster.’ 

Ash’s smile was bitter. 

‘I don’t even know why I’m telling you all of this. Maybe because I think it’s some kind of penance. Him in prison and me…in a kind of prison. Maybe it’ll mean something to you.’ 

‘You miserable doesn’t help me,’ Jack said.

But deep down, it _had_ helped him. Jack could never admit to it aloud. But there was a tiny part of him that felt vindictively pleased about it. Only now it had worn away, eroded to something softer and sensitive to what he was seeing. This person breaking down away from everyone that mattered. Talking to some random frost spirit. 

‘Are you happy?’ Ash said suddenly, squinting at him. ‘Are you?’

Jack swallowed roughly. 

‘Actually…yeah, kinda. I’m- Is that- Do you think I shouldn’t be?’ 

‘Nah,’ Ash said, shaking his head. ‘I’m glad. I want that. You have no idea how much I want that. He’s good to you? The dude that…was the…Nightmare King?’ 

‘Yeah,’ Jack said. ‘He’s not - they’re different.’ 

‘Yeah,’ Ash said, rubbing at his face. 

‘I mean, he tortured Pitch too,’ Jack said, trying to explain it better. ‘You know, Pitch is…scarred from it. But I think he’s happier too.’ 

‘Yeah,’ Ash said. 

The smile he offered was real, but it shattered Jack’s heart to see it. When he flew away after a weak goodbye, he realised he wasn’t sure if Ash would make it through this.

Jack had made it through. He was out the other side. He was alive and happy. He had…more of a family with the Guardians than he ever thought he’d have. His scars weren’t open wounds anymore, but _scars._ They marred him, but they no longer hurt him in the same way. 

He wanted to _do_ something for Ash, but he didn’t know what.

*

He left a note for Ash at his Prague address, knowing he’d see it - having a fairly good idea of Ash’s patterns now. 

And so Ash turned up at Kostroma, knocking on the door five times and shifting nervously from foot to foot when Jack opened the door. Pitch wasn’t home, Jack had asked him to make himself scarce for a little while. And there was a moment when he opened the door for Ash, that he remembered Augus there, and had to recall himself back to the present and remind himself that things were different now. 

‘You can come in,’ Jack said, the words feeling clumsy on his tongue. 

_Don’t make me regret giving you an invitation.  
_

‘Cheers,’ Ash said. 

He wasn’t wearing the crown today. 

Ash stepped hesitantly over the threshold, looking around the house curiously. 

‘Cool place,’ he said. ‘They don’t make ‘em like this anymore.’ 

‘What, dark and gloomy?’ Jack said, laughing, and Ash looked at him and smiled - but the smile was cautious, and he looked wary. At some point, the tables had turned between them. Jack felt like he was the more confident one, and Ash was shrinking into his own shoulders and Jack realised he’d lost weight, he looked gaunt. 

‘Nah,’ Ash said, hesitant. ‘Just…nice. Like a home.’ 

‘You have your apartments in the human world.’ 

‘Yeah, I guess I do,’ Ash said. ‘They’re just…they’re just places to fuck, actually.’ 

‘Do you have a…lake?’ Jack said, walking up the stairs and gesturing for Ash to follow. 

‘Kind of?’ Ash said. ‘Sort of. Not really. It’s hard to explain. I’m not a very good waterhorse actually. Kind of a runt. Wasn’t meant to survive.’ 

Jack almost asked how Ash had survived, and then realised with a shiver that it was Augus. That _Augus_ had helped him survive. 

He took a deep, slow breath and forced himself up the stairs. Because this wasn’t about that. This was about something else. Something he could give. 

‘You seem really lonely,’ Jack said, reaching the landing and looking over his shoulder.

Ash gave a sad laugh, scuffed up the stairs and had a hand on the back of his neck. 

‘Well sure,’ Ash said. ‘Aside from humans, I’m…well and Gulvi I suppose, but we’re- I dunno. I never used to feel like… _lonely._ But- I think now…’ 

His voice cracked and then he laughed again. 

‘I’m being the worst guest, aren’t I?’ Ash said. ‘I should’ve brought something. I think that’s the way it goes. Bring a present, or a gift.’ 

‘I don’t really stand much on ceremony,’ Jack said. Then realised how much he sounded like Pitch, and felt a little glow of kindling warmth in his heart. They were rubbing off on each other. 

There was a small lounge on the second floor that Jack had commandeered months ago. And it hadn’t taken much really. Pitch was a packrat, had collected blankets and quilts and cushions and pillows before and had been collecting them since. North had crocheted some for them as gifts - brilliant starburst patterns all over them. Toothiana had purchased one embroidered with snowflakes that merged into stars and golden rays of light. 

Their home was a gloomy home, but it was cheerful too. 

Ash’s breath caught when he saw what Jack had turned the lounge into. 

‘Jesus fucking hell,’ he whispered. And Jack tried to ignore the tightness in his own chest at how breathless Ash sounded. Like he’d been punched in the gut. 

‘So,’ Jack said, lifting up a corner of the entrance into the blanket fort with his staff. ‘Come on.’ 

‘Jesus,’ Ash said again, staring at it. 

‘I mean…if you don’t like it,’ Jack said, suddenly feeling horribly embarrassed. God, was it _stupid?_ He’d been hanging out with kids for too long. Wasn’t Ash like thousands of years old? Fae probably didn’t-

‘You made this for me?’ Ash said, staring at him, his mouth pulling taut and his eyes brighter than usual. ‘Really?’ 

‘I…just get in already,’ Jack said. ‘Come on. They’re not made to be looked at.’ 

Ash exhaled shakily and ducked his head and walked in. Jack followed into a space where the light was dimmer, and glowed red and gold and blue and green depending on what parts of the blankets it shone through. And on the ground, bowls of food - the kind that Jack thought Ash might like. And Jack had dragged in several books, stacked them; the ones that were his own favourites. Some were picture books, and Jack felt ashamed of them now. 

But when Ash got down onto his knees and crawled into one of the corners piled with cushions, he picked up one of the picture books and stared at it. 

‘Seriously?’ Ash said, raising his eyebrows and looking at Jack like he’d given him the world. ‘For me? But I thought-’

‘Dude, it’s a blanket fort,’ Jack said. ‘Fun times, remember?’ 

‘Fun times,’ Ash echoed, and then he looked around at all the blankets and something on his face crumpled, and he raised a shaking palm to his face and covered his expression. ‘ _Shit.’_

Jack swallowed roughly, and then leaned his staff against a pile of pillows and crept carefully to Ash’s side. Placed a hand on his shoulder, and was reaching out with his other arm when Ash slumped into him, his chest heaving, inhale strangled on a grief so sharp that Jack found himself gathering Ash close. All his subconscious fears forgotten as Ash trembled in his grip, his back beginning to shake with the particular movements of crying. 

‘This is not fun times,’ Jack said, laughing softly. ‘Hey, come on, it’s cool. We can just hang out, okay? It’s gonna be okay.’ 

‘I’m not sure it is,’ Ash said, his voice breaking so much the words were hard to make out. ‘I don’t think it is. I don’t think it is.’ 

And then Ash turned his face into Jack’s chest and was sobbing, and Jack remembered what it was like. The time Pitch had taken him to those children in those drifts of snow and deliberately cracked Jack’s heart open to get the grief out. 

Jack realised he’d done the same. Unintentionally, but…he’d done it. 

‘Shhh,’ Jack murmured, petting springy, damp hair and thinking that Pitch would be far better at dealing with this. ‘I’m here. I’ve got you.’ 

Words that Pitch had said to him so many times. Jack had never thought to hear himself say them to _Ash_ of all people. The _King.  
_

‘You’re not alone,’ Jack said quietly. 

Ash clung to him like a child, his tears froze to Jack’s sweater. And Jack rubbed his back and held him close and lay his cheek on Ash’s head and tried to keep his frost under control. He thought he was going to have such a story for Pitch, when he got home. 

Eventually the sobbing quietened, and then merged into weak laughter. 

‘Shit,’ Ash said wetly. ‘Didn’t mean for this to happen.’ 

‘I don’t mind,’ Jack said, scratching his fingers over Ash’s back gently. ‘You see me minding?’ 

‘I’m so tired,’ Ash said. 

‘Well…’ Jack said, looking around the blanket fort. ‘Be a shame to waste the fort, right? How about you lie down next to me, and I’ll read something to you. I’m good at it, you know. I’ve read to kids and everything.’

‘Do you do voices?’ Ash said, laughing, the sound a bit more genuine now. 

‘As if I _wouldn’t,’_ Jack said, picking up one of the books and being careful not to let his frost mar it. 

‘Would you just…could you- Could we stay like this a bit longer?’ Ash said. ‘It’s cool if we, I mean- I get it. If you can’t.’

Jack put down the book gently and wrapped his other arm about Ash’s back and pressed his forehead against the back of Ash’s head, feeling him take a deep breath and sigh it out. 

‘We can stay like this,’ Jack said. ‘I’m okay with it if you are.’ 

‘Yeah,’ Ash said, still hunched on himself, still shaking. ‘Yeah. I’m okay with it.’ 

‘Cool,’ Jack said. 

So they stayed like that, Jack feeling oddly protective of the once-carefree waterhorse and wishing he was better at providing comfort. But this would have to do; it didn’t seem like Ash was going to get much better. Jack squeezed Ash closer and stared at the embroidered starbursts above them. 

Maybe one day it would get better for him. 

It was all he could hope for.


	3. An Altar of You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is canon, post FtDWR/ISWF. The prompt was: "One falling asleep with their head in the other’s lap."
> 
> Last one for now! :)

‘You’re hair’s just so weird,’ Jack said, smoothing his hand over it and watching the frost build over the black strands. 

Pitch looked up at him from where his head rested in Jack’s lap. His golden eyes glowed, but his lids were heavy. He was tired, not sleeping enough. Jack wasn’t quite sure why, though he had a sneaking suspicion that he wasn’t ready to air. Every April it happened. A few weeks where Pitch was restless, _too_ restless. Where he would stare at the locket for too long. Wander through the house aimlessly, gazing out of windows like a spectre. 

‘I mean what is it even made of?’ Jack said. ‘Space alien.’ 

Jack brushed the frost away and bent down and kissed his forehead. Pitch’s skin so warm, Jack could feel his body heat all the way through his clothing. He lifted his other hand and started combing his fingers through Pitch’s hair. 

‘Feels like wires,’ Jack said. ‘But really thin ones. What do they make steel wool out of?’

‘Steel, I believe,’ Pitch said. 

‘Don’t say it like it’s _obvious,’_ Jack said, grinning at him. ‘Seriously though. Maybe if we straightened one of those out with an iron, it’d be like your hair. It just grows _up._ The amazing anti-gravity hair of the space aliens of Lune.’ 

‘It’s the only reason to be a space alien, really, when you think about it. The hair.’ 

‘You’re telling me!’ Jack said, wanting to keep that wry smile on his face forever. ‘I like it. It’s all…stiff.’ 

Jack quickly placed two fingers over Pitch’s lips. And Pitch looked at him with faux innocence. Another dirty joke avoided. One thing Jack had come to learn about Pitch - he could not pass up a chance to pepper a conversation with innuendo. 

‘It could be worse,’ Jack said. ‘You could be like all those people who go ‘that’s what she said’.’ 

‘You know,’ Pitch said, moving Jack’s fingers away from his mouth and cupping his cool hand in his own warmer one. ‘For a spirit that spends an awful lot of time around children, you are such a buzzkill.’ 

‘Spirit of children and fun and freedom, remember? Not spirit of innuendo. That’d be Jessica Rabbit. Or something. Who knows? Hey, how come you don’t have to cut your hair?’ 

‘How come you don’t have to cut _yours?’  
_

‘I dunno, spirit magic shit. Why would I know something like that? I look like a _researcher_ to you?’ 

‘Do I?’ Pitch drawled. ‘Have you seen my axe? I’m a _lumberjack.’  
_

_‘_ The best of all the lumberjacks,’ Jack whispered under his breath, giggling. 

Pitch tilted his head back, like a cat seeking more pets, and Jack provided them. This was the most relaxed Pitch had been in days. Either he’d gotten past whatever grief was dogging him, or Jack was actually helping. Jack fervently hoped it was the latter, because he knew he never did enough for Pitch. Knew he couldn’t return the comfort and protection that Pitch gave freely and in droves. But he suspected it was simply that the memories were beginning to run their course.

But like this, scritching his fingers through Pitch’s scalp, petting him gently, tracing the curves of his ear and marvelling at all he’d been through - Jack could pretend that he was the one providing the comfort. 

‘You’re handsome,’ Jack said, as Pitch’s eyes drifted shut. 

‘I rather think I look like the Sock and Buskin masks.’ 

‘ _Pitch.’  
_

‘A handsome version.’

‘Better, yeah,’ Jack said, watching as Pitch’s chest began to rise and fall more slowly. If he was going to sleep, Jack was going to stay here for as long as it took, even if his back started hurting. ‘Hey. I love you.’ 

‘As you should,’ Pitch said primly. ‘I live for the day you’ll tell me that you _worship_ me.’ 

‘It’s like…you can’t quite forget all those delusions of grandeur you had as a supervillain, can you? You get so close to being like… _regular._ And then all of a sudden you want a damn altar or something.’ 

‘With black candles,’ Pitch said, eyes still closed. ‘Sock and Buskin masks. Little sculptures of nightmares everywhere.’

‘You mean little plush horsies.’

‘How scandalous. I don’t want an altar anymore. You ruined it.’ 

‘Can put little black confettis everywhere.’ 

‘You’re _still_ ruining it,’ Pitch said, his voice turning soft with tiredness. 

_That’s it,_ Jack thought towards him, still carding his fingers through Pitch’s hair. _Go on, you’re safe with me. Safest. I’ll turn anyone who comes after you into icicles. And then shatter them. …Maybe I won’t tell North that I think like this sometimes._

‘Little black and white candy canes,’ Jack whispered. 

‘Dear god,’ Pitch murmured. ‘ _No.’  
_

_‘_ Bunny could donate some black and white eggs.’ 

‘For the love of- _No.’  
_

_‘_ And Tooth could-’

‘You’re a menace,’ Pitch said, yawning and turning towards Jack’s stomach. One of his arms came up and tucked underneath his chest, and his eyelashes fluttered before his face went slack. 

‘A menace you love,’ Jack said, smiling down at him. 

‘Forever,’ Pitch said, the words nothing more than puffs of syllables. 

Jack didn’t stop stroking his hair for a long time after Pitch finally fell asleep, bending down to kiss his forehead twice more, thinking how every April he would do this - as often as Pitch would let him - until he and time together could soothe the worst of the bad memories.


End file.
